


“This! These. These are apology muffins.”

by Red_City



Series: First of all, you're wrong. [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Allergies, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Asking out on a Date, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Awkward, Awkward Stiles Stilinski, Cell Phones, Cute, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek is a Softie, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Food, Fumbling, Future Fic, Gifts, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, M/M, More later - Freeform, Phone number, Police AU, Police Officer Derek, Scott is a Good Friend, apology muffins, boyd cannot deal with this shit, ha, i can't believe it, sheriff stilinski is the biggest shipper of them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_City/pseuds/Red_City
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Apology muffins.”</p>
<p>“Apology muffins!” Stiles repeated, sliding the container closer to Derek, not making eye contact. </p>
<p>“Why are you giving me apology muffins?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	“This! These. These are apology muffins.”

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [— Это тебе! «Плюшки-извинюшки»](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167885) by [Nymphalidae_Danainae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphalidae_Danainae/pseuds/Nymphalidae_Danainae)



> The next installment! Which makes more sense if you read the first part! So go do that!  
> And  
> Wow! Guys! Thank you so much for your kudos and comments, I wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic response! You're the best!

“Shit, shit shitballs, SHIT, Scott he’s here he’s here he’s RIGHT THERE!” 

Scott looked over at him incredulously. “Dude. Was that not the point of coming here?”

Stiles gave him a withering glare, and ducked again behind the half wall at the door of the station when the man in question turned his head.

Deputy Hale, DEREK Hale, of the Hales, Derek, newest member of the Beacon Hills Police Department, Deputy Derek Fucking Hale was just sitting at his desk like he wasn’t personally victimizing Stiles as he slouched down on the floor, holding his face in his hands. 

“I called him a stripper, Scott. I called him a STRIPPER!” Stiles hissed, muffled by his fingers. Scott knelt in front of him, pulling at his hands until Stiles was glaring up at him. 

“He also practically asked you to come here. While he was here. Right? Didn’t you say that happened?”

“Maybe,” Stiles said, pushing at Scott’s knees with his foot. 

“You boys okay?”

Both of them looked up to see Sheriff Stilinski, looking amused as we watched them on the floor. Both scrambled up, Stiles grabbing the container he had brought in with him. His dad eyed it suspiciously and Stiles held it, defensively covering the top. 

“Dad. Hi. These are none of your business, they are not for you. Don’t look at me like that. Have you - are - are you eating FRENCH FRIES right now??”

His father had the decency to look guilty, but then just popped another fry into his mouth. “I hope you know that Hale hasn’t taken his lunch break yet. Because I maybe mentioned you were planning on coming in today.” 

“That’s - I don’t care about that, why would I care about that?” Stiles asked, and Scott snorted. Stiles leaned to peek over his dad’s shoulder and saw that Derek was now looking at him, but quickly looked away. “We’re not here to see De - Deputy Hale.”

“Stiles. We ARE here to see him,” Scott said, and Stiles pursed his lips. 

“Fine. Maybe, MAYBE we are here to see him. Don’t look at me like that, dad, or at all. Stop. Goodbye. And NO MORE FRENCH FRIES!” Stiles told him as he practically shoved past him. Stiles approached Derek’s desk cautiously, stopping just as he got close enough to place the container next to Derek’s arm.

“Mr. Stilinski,” Derek said, turning his body towards Stiles. 

“Ugh, god, please don’t. Stiles. Hi.”

“Hi,” Derek said, with an ALMOST smile. He looked down at the container on his desk, Stiles’ fingers nervously tapping on it. “What’s this.”

“This! These. These are apology muffins.” Stiles bit his lip, watching Derek’s eyebrows as they raised.

“Apology muffins.”

“Apology muffins!” Stiles repeated, sliding the container closer to Derek, not making eye contact. 

“Why are you giving me apology muffins?”

“BecAUSE,” Stiles drawled. “Because I need to apologize. Sorry. For - uh - the misunderstanding. That happened. And not believing you. I doubt that’s how you planned on meeting your bosses’ son,” he grinned, and heard Derek huff an almost laugh. Progress. 

“Actually, I have to admit, that’s not the first time it’s happened to me.”

Stiles looked up, dropping his jaw, and then snapped it shut, crossing his arms. 

“Not the - it’s happened before?” Stiles asked. “You - who? Who thought you were a cop stripper?”

“Other than you?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Bachelorette party. Noise complaint. Apparently they had hired strippers and I just arrived early.”

Stiles laughed. “Of course. Naturally.”

Derek smiled at him then, and Stiles did a double take because _holy shit_ Derek’s eyes were pretty. Everything else was pretty too, goddamn gorgeous, but Derek had had his sunglasses on last time they had talked, and Stiles hadn’t realized. What even color are those?

“Stiles?” Derek asks him, and Stiles realizes he had been staring. Crap. 

“Uh, yes? Sorry, what?”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I was just - distracted. Sorry. What were you saying?”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him again and Stiles has to struggle to not look directly in his eyes because _damn_ it’s difficult to concentrate. 

“I was just wondering what flavor apology muffins are.”

“Oh! Right. Um, these are banana nut, because who doesn’t like banana nut, and my grandmother had this amazing walnut secret recipe thing and - wait, what’s with the face?”

Derek’s face had fallen slightly, and he shrugged. 

“Um, nothing.”

“Is - that okay? Is it weird that I brought you muffins, I know that’s kinda weird but I felt bad for calling you - um. Mistaking you for a -”

“No, it’s not weird,” Derek said, stopping Stiles floundering. “It’s not - no. It’s nice. Thank you.”

“Oh. Are you sure? You don’t seem - do you not like muffins?”

“He’s allergic to bananas.” 

Stiles was startled by the deep voice coming from his left, and turned to see Officer Boyd, not even looking at them, going through paperwork. 

“Boyd,” Derek hissed.

“Well you weren’t gonna tell him,” Boyd said, still not bothering to look up, and Stiles turned back towards Derek.

“You’re - allergic to bananas.”

Derek sighed. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Derek! You can’t be sorry for be allergic to bananas! I can’t believe you weren’t gonna say anything! I tried to POISON you!” Stiles was flailing now, arms punctuating his words but he couldn’t stop. “I can’t believe this. First, stripper, then POISON. Oh my god. I cannot believe this.”

“Stiles, it’s fine, sorry, I should have -”

“No, don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here finding new ways of making sure I never get laid again. Not that I - that’s not - oh my god. Shut up Stiles, shut UP!” He clamped a hand over his mouth, mortified, and Derek stood there laughing. He turned to see Boyd smiling too, still not looking up. 

“Oh I’m glad you see my pain as funny, Boyd. And sorry, I’m so sorry, Derek, um, Deputy Hale, GOD shut up. I completely ruined everything. I had a plan!” Stiles groaned. 

“What was the plan?” Derek asked, looking intrigued, and Stiles was already in too deep now, so he plunged ahead. 

“I was going to be charming, you see.” Derek, bless him, nodded. “And give you apology muffins, which would not be as weird as Scott said they would be, and then maybe you would say something funny, and I would laugh, and I would say that the apology muffins really don’t quite make up for it, and then ask if I could take you to dinner as an ACTUAL apology, and th-”

“Yes.”

Stiles halted, mid-word, gaping at Derek, who was - blushing? What?

“Are you - what?”

“Yes, I would love to go to dinner.”

There was a moment of silence while Stiles had to adjust to reality. “Wait, YES? Did you say YES? After I tried to kill you and didn’t believe you when you said you weren’t a stripper? Holy shit.”

Derek softly smiled, and MAN, Stiles would make a fool of himself on the daily if that’s the response he always got. 

“Okay. Good. Dinner. Please do not eat the apology muffins and die because you just promised to let me take you to dinner and there are no take backs.”

“Oh my god,” Boyd said, and Derek shot him a look. 

“I will not eat the apology muffins,” Derek said, looking so genuine that Stiles had to smile. 

“Okay, good. Good. Good. Oh my God stop saying good. Scott, where is Scott, I need to leave before this gets any worse. Okay. Good. Ugh!” Stiles threw up his hands and turned away, practically bolting for his dad’s office door. He could not believe his life sometimes, or his mouth. 

He dragged Scott out by his arm, who only put up a mild protest to the man-handling, and got all the way to the elevators before he realized. 

“Oh no. OH NO,” Stiles groaned. 

“Oh no what?” Scott asked, fixing his collar where Stiles had rumpled it. 

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

Stiles stomped back into the precinct, glaring at the back of Derek’s head. Boyd noticed him coming and pointed, making Derek turn. 

“Stiles? I thought you were -”

“I realize that I didn’t get your number. So we could go to dinner. And of COURSE I forgot it, because I was supposed to be smooth and charming and the universe obviously wants anything but.”

Derek was smiling, though, so maybe he thought fucking up was charming. Which was good news for Stiles. 

“So, uh, can I have your number?” Stiles asked, handing over his cell phone for Derek to program the number in. Derek didn’t answer out loud, taking the phone and typing into it with a soft smile on his face. Stiles stared, outright stared at him, wanting to feel if the stubble on his cheeks was as soft as it looked. It almost surprised Stiles when Derek looked up, he had been so focused, and he handed Stiles phone back. 

“Text me so I can have yours,” Derek asked, still almost smiling. Stiles nodded, not daring to open his mouth and let his barrage of thoughts come spilling out again. He tucked the phone into his pocket, waved goodbye, turned on his heel and booked it out the door. Scott followed willingly enough, laughing at him as they went. 

“Dude, you are so red right now.”

“Shut up.”

It took Stiles a good 10 minutes to find Derek’s contact info in his phone, panicking the whole time that he hadn’t actually saved it, before going through the contacts alphabetically and nearly choking on his own spit when he found it. 

To: Not A Stripper  
**u think ur hilarious dont u**  
-ding- went his phone a few seconds later. 

From: Not A Stripper  
**Well now you’re saved as “Not A Satanist” so we’re even.**

To: Not a Stripper  
**u dont know that for sure  
i totally could b ******

From: Not A Stripper  
**Your dad says you’re not a Satanist.**

To: Not A Stripper  
**cheater.**

From: Not A Stripper  
**:)**

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the end. More soon!


End file.
